Page 17 of The Capo & the Curator

A flare of anger licks through me at his condescension. I open my mouth, a biting retort brewing on my tongue, when a new voice slices through the tension.

"I'd watch that forked tongue of yours if I were you, Valtieri."

The rich baritone sends a shock of awareness ricocheting through me. My head whips around just as Dante's powerful form strides into the room, his expression carved from granite.

Marco's head tilts in an almost mocking acknowledgment. "Romano. How predictable of you to come riding to the lady's rescue." His lips curl into a disdainful sneer. "Tell me, is this part of your latest game? Or have you deluded yourself into actually caring for the girl?"

"This is no game." The words emerge as a low rumble from deep within Dante's chest. "Ms. Hughes is under my protection, and any further interference will be met with consequences you'd be wise not to provoke."

Under his protection? My mind reels at the implications even as a part of me thrills at the unspoken promise laced through his tone.

"Is that so?" Marco arches one dark brow, his gaze cutting between Dante and me in a sweeping study. "Well, well. This is certainly an intriguing development." His expression is unreadable, but there's a strange glint in his eye as he inclines his head in a shallow nod. "I'll take my leave for now. But rest assured, Romano, we'll be revisiting this conversation soon enough."

With a final weighted look in my direction, Marco turns on his heel and strides from the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. For several heartbeats, Dante and I simply stand there, the weight of a thousand unspoken things hanging between us in the stillness.

"What..." I have to pause to wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. "What are you doing here?"

His jaw tightens fractionally before he lets out a slow exhale. "Evidently arriving just in time to prevent that snake from sinking his fangs in any deeper."

He crosses the space between us in two long strides, closing the distance until we're mere inches apart.

"I dismissed you." His deep voice is laced with an undercurrent of remorse. "I sent you away because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe. But I was a fool. You were never just a means to an end, Evelyn. From that first moment you challenged me, I..." He breaks off with a frustrated shake of his head. "I've never met anyone like you before. Someone who could slip past every one of my defenses and burrow their way into my very core without me even realizing it was happening."

This is a side of Dante I've never seen before—stripped bare of his armor, his emotions laid vulnerably open. I can only gape at him, utterly transfixed, as he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdraws a slim bundle wrapped in oiled cloth.

"I told you I did not need you anymore because I couldn't fathom allowing anything to happen to you in my world." His fingers work deftly at the ties binding the cloth, unwrapping it to reveal a bundle of yellowed parchment pages. "But I was wrong. You've been an integral part of this from the start. Without your insights, your brilliance..." His gaze lifts to mine. "I never would have made it this far."

With painstaking care, he extends the bundle of documents toward me—an olive branch, a promise, and perhaps... something more.

My fingers tremble as they close around the aged parchment, the papers whispering against my skin with the weight of generations. This simple gesture bridges the chasm that had grown between us, allowing our worlds to collide and realign in a way that is both electrifying and utterly terrifying.

Dante's free hand lifts, his knuckles skimming my cheek in a feather-light caress. "I need you, Evelyn," he murmurs. "Not just as a partner in this quest, but as someone who forces me to confront the parts of myself I've kept locked away for far too long. Someone who makes me want to grasp onto life instead of merely existing in the shadows."

The breath stalls in my lungs as I gaze up at him, utterly spellbound. In that moment, the world around us seems to fall away until nothing is left but the heated charge crackling between our bodies.

Then Dante's mouth is on mine, slanting over my lips in a searing, breathtaking kiss. I sag against him as the papers flutter from my fingers, the last vestiges of resistance crumbling beneath the onslaught of pure sensation. His hands are everywhere, cradling my face, threading through my hair, searing paths of delicious friction wherever they roam.

When we finally break apart, I'm trembling and breathless, clinging to him as if he's the only anchor in a world that has abruptly been thrown off-kilter. Dante's forehead rests against mine, his ragged breaths mingling with my own in the scant space between us.

"Ti amo," he rasps. "I'm done pushing you away, tesoro mio. This..." His fingers tighten almost desperately where they've tangled in the fabric of my blouse. "This is where you belong. With me."

My fingers trace the rugged line of his jaw, mapping every plane and contour. "And I'm not going anywhere," I murmur against his lips, sealing the promise with another scorching kiss.

Chapter 11

Dante

Evelyn twists away from me, her fingers already working the lock on her office door with practiced ease. She drags me inside, and when she turns back to face me, there's a wicked gleam in her eyes.

My brows arch in a silent challenge as she begins to slowly undo the buttons on her blouse, one by torturous one.

"Ms. Hughes," I drawl, fighting to keep my expression impassive. "In the library?"

She regards me through her lashes, her lips curved in that sweet, secret smile that's become my undoing. "Well, Mr. Romano, I do want to keep you on your toes." The words are a low, throaty purr as she lets the fabric of her blouse slip from her shoulders in a whisper of silk.

Christ.

I can't tear my gaze away as inch after glorious inch of creamy skin is revealed to my hungry stare. The gentle swell of her breasts strains against the lace of her bra, and suddenly, it's as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. My lungs burn with the effort of drawing breath past the desire coating my throat like viscous smoke.

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